Taking Steps Towards the Light
by gooseberrie
Summary: Angelina just wanted to help a grieving friend, right? But could it become something more? George/Angelina.


_Dislaimer: I'm just playing with JKR's toys. Enjoy :)_Taking Steps Toward The Light

* * *

"George, we need to talk."

"No we don't. There's nothing to talk about."

"George, don't be like that. There is most definitely something to talk about."

"Just leave me alone, okay? Go bother someone else."

"Your twin is _dead, _George. Your _twin. _You're going to have to deal with that soon. You can't just keep denying it."

George didn't reply to this. What was her problem_?_ Couldn't she just leave him alone? He just wanted some peace and quiet. But apparently, that didn't exist anymore. He looked up; Angelina was at the door. She gave him a long, searching look, but said nothing as she departed.

George rolled over on his bed. They didn't understand – none of them. They kept telling him that he needed to deal with it, that he needed to move on with his life, but they didn't understand. If he just waited long enough, Fred would come back to him, grinning and telling him that he shouldn't listen to gossip so much. If he just waited long enough.

They had always waited for each other, always. Being twins, it was always together. Two separate pieces of the same soul. Mum had always said that it was like Fred and George shared a brain. And now... now he was gone. There was no more 'Fred and George'. He was alone, just one half of a person. He didn't know how to be just George.

He could _never _be just George.

* * *

_Dear George,_

_Do you want to meet for coffee and have a chat, seeing as we haven't spoken in ages!_

_Meet me at 11.00 tomorrow, okay?_

_Love, Angelina_

George crumpled up the letter. Who did she think she was? They had hardly even spoken since after Fred died. Mum sent over friends and family practically every day, but he noticed Angelina never came. Maybe she didn't want to see him, as he was such a strong reminder of Fred. Then again, they hadn't really been going out, not really since Hogwarts. It hadn't lasted long, Fred and Angelina. After all, his true love had always been the shop. There wasn't room in his heart for a woman. He wondered what Angelina would speak to him about when he met her for coffee –_ hang on a minute! When? You mean if! Why on earth would you go to coffee with Angelina – so she can mope and weep over Fred?_

* * *

However, George found himself dressing at 10 the next morning, then Apparating to the small Muggle coffee shop where he, Fred, and Angelina had gone once just after she graduated. Angelina hadn't mentioned it in her letter, but somehow he knew she'd be there. Sure enough, he spotted her instantly, her long dark hair loose for once, spilling over her shoulders. She was reading a Muggle newspaper, and didn't notice him enter. He dropped into a chair across the table from her, and she finally looked up.

"Hey."

"Hi, George!" she said brightly. She looked back at her newspaper and there was a few seconds' pause.

"How have you been?"

"I'm fine."

Here we go again, thought George. She's going to start badgering me about Fred.

"No you're not." she said sharply. Her chocolate brown eyes met his blue ones, and they locked on each other for a minute, before George looked away. "You're not fine."

"What?" What on earth was this about? Most people just accepted his answer when they asked, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder.

"I said, you're not fine. It's only been a month!How on earth could you be fine?"

"I'm managing."

"I'm sure you're managing. However, you are not _fine._ There is a difference. Inside, you are torn up, and you feel like you'll never be able to move forward again. You wish you were dead."

"How do you know that?" George replied defensively, annoyed at the fact that that was exactly how he was feeling.

"I can tell. I can see what everyone else can't. That's because they are blinded by the fact that they desperately hope that you can go back to being the old George, the one who cracks jokes no matter how fucked up things get."

"And you don't want me to be normal again?" he said heatedly.

"Of course I do. I just happen to know that when someone that close to you disappears, you can't just get back up and laugh straight away. You have to dwell on it for a bit, so that you can come to terms with the fact that they won't ever be coming back. It's too big a hole to patch up in a few months."

She gazed at him intently for a few seconds, and then looked back at her newspaper. George stared at the ceiling, taking in her words, and realizing their truth, even as a voice inside his head valiantly cried _'You don't need help! You're supposed to fall into a hole that you can't get out of! You don't need her help!'_

"I should get going." He glanced back at her. She looked up, and nodded gently. He stood up and pulled on his coat, heading toward the door. Once he reached it, however, he turned back.

"Angelina?"

"Yes, George?"

"Thank you."

He said the last words softly, glancing quickly at her. She merely smiled, and George turned and left, feeling that at least a small part of the weight that had been pressing on his chest since it happened had been lifted.

* * *

_His twin just died. He's not ready for a relationship; it'll just make things worse._

_No it won't. He needs some love in his life, to help him deal with Fred._

_Fine then. Try it. But he'll just push you away._

_There is the possibility though. Maybe he'll see reason._

_A grieving, depressed George Weasley? See reason? In your dreams, sister._

The conflicting voices in her head were giving her a headache. As she sat at home, splayed over her couch, the internal battle raged on. Her gut instinct kept telling her to go for it, to get what she wanted, what he _needed_, but her head fought fiercely, saying the words she didn't want to hear, though she knew it was the truth.

* * *

The doorbell rang. _Shit._ He had possibly the biggest hangover the world had ever seen, and now Mum had sent over another Weasley to pester him.

"Who is it?" he yelled in the direction of the door.

"It's Angelina." replied a soft voice from outside.

_God. _Of all the people to come calling now, it had to be her.

"Come in, the door's unlocked, but it's not a pretty sight." he said as a warning.

She stepped inside, stood for a second taking in George lying practically passed out on his bed, then strode over to him and dragged him up by the arm, tugging him towards the bathroom. She filled a glass with water and splashed it in his face.

"What was that for?" he spluttered.

"We need to talk."

George groaned, remembering the last time she had said that to him.

"What now?"

"Did you even listen to anything I said when we went for coffee?"

"Yes, you said that I should take some time to dwell on it." he replied tonelessly.

"Dwelling on it doesn't mean drinking yourself to bed every night for two months straight!"

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" he asked nastily.

"I am going to make you remember. Forgetting everything with drink doesn't help you or anyone else." She looked straight at him now. "Do you remember the time when you and Fred charmed those snowballs to follow Professor Quirell?"

George stood, frozen, for a second. _Does she really think that remembering him is going to help at all? He's gone; memories can't bring him back._ Then he looked down, saw the earnest plea to try, at least, written in her eyes, and decided to co-operate. Just this once. He never had been able to resist those eyes.

"He didn't know what hit him!" he said, forcing a smile.

Half an hour later, George was rolling around on his bed, laughing genuinely this time.

"Do you remember the Yule Ball?"

"You and Fred nearly took people's heads off!"

He looked at her, grinning, and realised that she had stopped smiling and was looking upset. It seemed to suddenly hit him again how much they had both lost.

They looked at each other for a minute, and it was almost as if she was Fred, and they were able to think the same things as each other. A lone tear trickled down George's face, and then they were coming thick and fast, the tears that he had been holding back for two months, ever since he saw Fred's frozen body lying before him in the Great Hall, and Angelina was crying too, as they sat there on his bed, surrounded by the memories. Before he knew it, the girl he'd had a crush on since 5th year, when his stupid twin starting chasing after her, pulled his face towards hers. She paused for a second, when their faces were close enough that he could count the teardrops on her long eyelashes, looked into his eyes. Then she closed her own, and kissed him, gently, on the lips.

It was like they were frozen, like time had stopped. His heart was screaming desperately not to let go, but he listened to his head, pulling away from her roughly. He turned away so he didn't have to see the hurt in her eyes. This was wrong. He couldn't do this; she wasn't his to take. She was Fred's. When they were at Hogwarts, he'd never said anything, because he knew that she would pick Fred over him even if he told her how he felt, because Fred was so much better than he was. _But she likes you now. Take it, take this chance, she won't wait forever_! cried his heart. No; he wouldn't, he couldn't _touch_ her; she was Fred's.

"Don't." he said suddenly. She was gazing at him again, gazing with those huge chocolate brown doe eyes, those eyes that he couldn't resist...

"What?" she asked.

"_What? _You're practically throwing yourself at me and you're asking _what?_" he said incredulously, his voice rising with every word. "Don't come near me! You're Fred's! I can't have you! He'd kill me!"

_Stop! Stop! Stop! Why the hell are you doing this? You're hurting her; she'll leave and never come back, and then where will you be?_

"Don't give me that crap! There wasn't anything between Fred and me and you know it!" she retorted angrily.

George told himself she was lying, but deep down he knew it was true – Fred hadn't been serious about Angelina. It wasn't that he didn't return the feeling, but... what _was _the reason he was stopping himself?

He looked up; she appeared as though she was trying to look like it didn't matter to her, but he could see that she was hurt – there were angry tears welling up in her eyes.

"What kind of decent girl starts kissing her dead boyfriend's _twin brother _the minute he's gone?" he yelled.

He wasn't going to say it, he wasn't going to say the word. She did it for him, though.

"Fred is _dead_,George, and you're going to have to accept that someday. You might as well do it sooner rather than later. I'm giving you an option to get out of this miserable existence, but you have to choose. Come with me, or go on living like this," she gestured around the messy bedroom, "and push me away too." Her voice broke on the last few words, and something inside of George was clawing desperately at him, trying to reach out to her, but he ignored it.

Instead, he merely rolled over on his bed, so that he didn't have to look at her. Jesus, she was still beautiful, even when she was crying! She stood there for a few seconds, looking at him pleadingly, but he refused to even glance at her. She looked indecisive for a minute, then spun on the spot and Apparated to her flat.

* * *

There was a crushing weight on her chest; she felt like she couldn't breathe. She collapsed on the couch, pulling a duvet over her head. Her hand curved to the floor, and came into contact with something soft and fluffy. She grabbed it, and pulled it out – it was the teddy that Fred and George had given her on her eighteenth birthday. She stared at it, the memories of their gleeful faces coming back to her, then burst into a fresh wave of tears. She clutched the teddy to her chest as she replayed in her mind the argument between her and George. Maybe he really just didn't like her. Maybe she had been wrong about his feelings towards her. She pulled the teddy closer, hugging it tightly. The twins had thought it was so funny when they gave it to her; she remembered their laughter as though it had happened yesterday. The years before the war seemed so close, and yet they had lost so many in such a short space of time. Lost in thoughts of the war, she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

She woke with a start – how long had she been sleeping? Then she realised why she had woken – the door had opened with a creak. She saw a flash of red hair – _George! _Instantly, she pretended to be asleep, trying to slow her breathing. As he came in, he called her name.

"Angelina?"

She heard him stop as he saw her lying on the couch.

"Angelina?" he asked, quieter this time. She didn't respond; she really didn't want to talk to him now. She'd given him plenty of time to talk to her earlier, and he'd broken her heart already then. What did he want now? He came very close to her; he seemed to be checking whether she was sleeping. His footsteps retreated a little, then he spoke.

"It's not that I don't like you, Angelina. Hell, I might even love you. I fancied you since 5th year, even before Fred started going on about you. But I didn't say anything 'cause I thought you would like him better."

She had to bite down on her lip to stop herself gasping. How could he ever think she'd like Fred more than him? And all those years she had thought he just didn't feel the same way!

"And I know you and Fred weren't really serious." he continued, "It's just... it doesn't seem right that I should be able to have happiness when he never got the chance to. He never will; and it's so unfair! Why should I get to live when he can't?"

He seemed to have finished; he stared at her for almost a full minute. Then, seeming to decide that she hadn't heard a word he had said, he stood up to leave. Angelina remained silent, her brain reeling. He had reached the doorway when she made up her mind – she was going to help him.

"But you are alive, George. What's the point of existing if you can't live, and have happiness?"

George whirled around to face her, looking shocked.

"Wait – you were awake the whole time?" She nodded.

"And you heard everything I said?" She nodded again. He sank down into a chair, his head in his hands.

"I didn't mean for you to hear that, I thought you were asleep! I just needed to get it out..." he trailed off, looking worried.

"Why shouldn't I hear it?" she replied, though she already knew the answer.

"Well, just because, you know, I thought you wouldn't really want to forgive me, after what I said to you." he took a deep breath, "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it, it's just, I felt bad about loving you, because I felt like I couldn't love someone else after Fred died. And I just lashed out. I'm sorry."

She looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out whether he was telling the truth. She saw the answer looking out at her from those deep blue eyes. He really meant it, he was sorry.

She gave him a small smile and offered her hand. He stood, and helped her up from the couch, looking slightly scared of her. Well, he had reason to be, she supposed, as she was known to get into very bad tempers.

"I liked you too, you know? In school?" she whispered. She had to look up at him now; it was funny how much he had grown in the past few years.

"I think I love you, Angelina Johnson." he said, stepping closer.

"I _know_ I love you, George Weasley." she answered, smiling slightly.

A smile lit up his face at her words, and he leant down and kissed her gently. She was too shocked at first to do anything, but then she responded, slipping her arms around his neck. Neither of them wanted to pull away, but when they parted, they just smiled brilliantly at each other, lost for words.

* * *

George sank down onto the couch, close to disbelieving what had just happened. Angelina curled up next to him, and he looked down at her as she slipped her hand into his. As he took in how perfectly their entwined hands fitted together, it struck him that this was the first time he had truly felt happy since his twin had died. He glanced at Angelina, to see that infectious smile on her face once more. Then, at exactly the same moment, they burst out laughing at how ridiculous it all seemed. When they had laughed themselves out, she laid her head on his shoulder, and they sat like that for a while, Angelina giving the occasional giggle.

She really is beautiful, he thought, as he gazed down at her. He knew that he had finally found peace, happiness, something that he could rely on. She glanced up at him, before leaning in and kissing him again. At which all thoughts disappeared from his head, as his arms wrapped around her waist and her hands reached into his hair.

* * *

_Not my best, I know. Please R&R - they make my day :)_


End file.
